


Freak By Association

by AutumnReid



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - School, Angst, Bullying, Sadness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-09
Updated: 2013-08-15
Packaged: 2017-12-25 04:04:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/948411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutumnReid/pseuds/AutumnReid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock was always alone. Over the years he'd gotten used to it and created his own way of life that didn't involve friendship and belonging. But when John Watson came to his middle school everything seemed to change for him. Life was good. Until John started getting bullied...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Am i a freak?

**Author's Note:**

> Not really one for sadness but you know, what comes to mind comes to mind. I don't own sherlock

Sherlock-9  
John-9  
mycroft-16

* * *

"Freak." The latest new kid at Sherlock's middle school mumbled as he took his tray to sit at the next table. Sherlock watched as he walked away to sit next to Anderson who looked over at Sherlock and then announce loudly.

"I told you he was a freak." Sherlock looked down at the tray in front of him before pushing it away, his appetite was gone. It's not like he had done anything wrong. His parent's divorce had been written all over the boy was it his fault he'd observed it easily? Sure he didn't have to point out his mother's cheating but it slipped off of his tongue before he could catch himself.

Sherlock sat at his table alone, like every day, listening to the tick of the clock behind him unconsciously drumming his fingers to it.

Tick Tock.  
Tick Tock.  
Tick Tock.

Sherlock turned to stare at it. The second hand slowly turning inch by inch. He hated clocks. If he could create a world it would be one without time. He'd never have to count the minutes in his head that he was alone, all of time and space would merge into one long second. He'd gotten into the habit of counting every single tick. He'd counted twenty five now that mean there was another twenty to go. He grimaced at the thought he pretending to not notice the looks everyone was giving him. Couldn't he visit his mind palace in peace?! They always stared at him like he was an alien, maybe to them he was. The thought felt indifferent to him. He was used to the stares.

A familiar object came into view out of the corner of his eye. He looked over. Mycroft's umbrella. Mycroft chuckled as his friends continued talking.

"Mycroft?" He barely heard his name above his friend's voices. The pull of his sweater vest and he turned to his younger brother. His friends chuckled as he waved them away and looked down at his shorter brother leaning on his signature umbrella.

"Yes Brother?" Sherlock looked around the lunchroom before turning back to Mycroft who waited patiently as his brother looked up at him again.

"Am I a freak?" Mycroft made a face at the question. Of course Sherlock was…different. But then again, He was a Holmes. Difference came with the name. But a freak? He certainly didn't think so.

"No my dear brother, what would make you think such a thing?" Sherlock looked over at the table of other students.

"I- It's nothing. I just wanted to know if you thought I was." Sherlock tried a smile "Thank you Mycroft." Mycroft nodded patting the top of his brother's head. "Oh course, Sherlock." The bell rang then and Mycroft looked over to the door. "You'll be late if you don't leave soon." Sherlock nodded and turned to the door before scuffling out as alone as he'd been when he arrived.


	2. John

Sherlock sighed. Art was so boring, sure the anatomy of the body was fascinating to draw and learn from but after you've learned all the muscles and tendons of the body and could draw them effortlessly about it became a very boring subject. He'd already finished his project a week before everyone else and sitting alone (once again) at his table he was beginning to get bored. Bad things happened when Sherlock got bored. Last time he'd nearly killed Anderson in an accident when he'd wondered what happened when you crossed nitric acid and hydrazine (FYI. It explodes) and now he could feel his fingers twitch as boredom took over.

"Hi!" Sherlock turned to the happy voice. A brown haired boy sat across from him at the table. Sherlock had never seen the boy before so he assumed the boy was new. Especially since he was talking to Sherlock, everyone knew Sherlock was 'a freak' only new kids talked to him and they usually didn't talk long. He gave this kid 25 minutes before he called him weird and left. The boy smiled one of the warmest smiles Sherlock had ever seen and offered a hand.

"My name is John." Sherlock looked at the hand for a second. People didn't touch Sherlock, He didn't like to be touched. But regardless he took the hand begrudgingly.

"I'm Sherlock Holmes" John frowned.

"Oh, you're Sherlock? That boy over there told me you were the Antichrist" John pointed behind him where Anderson sat talking to a laughing Donovan. Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"That's because he is intimated by my superior intellect and therefore must use juvenile insults to boast his self-esteem." John blinked. He'd never met a kid their age using big words like that.

"Okay…?" John didn't know how to respond to that. He looked around the room full of colorful paintings and happy kids as Sherlock pulled out a book.

"Where's your painting?" Sherlock eyed him over the pages of his book.

"I finished already" John looked down shyly.

"Could I see it?" Sherlock nodded gently pulling the painting from the drying rack and showed it to John. John stared at it in awe.

Sherlock had expertly drawn and painted a ballerina but none like John had ever imagine. The ballerina wore a pink leotard and high tutu around her waist. The detail as amazing, light shining in the right places and shadows falling at just the right angles. She was mid-jump her body facing the viewer as if she were going to hop out of the painting and preform the rest of her dance for them. He believed for a second that it was merely a photograph Sherlock had adjusted but seeing the thick globs of paint and the rough brush stroke he knew he'd painted it. She was absolutely beautiful until he looked into her face. John frowned slightly.

"She looks sad?" He'd meant for it to come out as a statement but honestly it was more of a question in his eyes. Whenever he'd seen a ballerina she was always smiling or happy in some way. Sherlock's ballerina was sad. Her face held a deep frown and her eyes seemed wet, large red rings around them as if she'd been crying. In all, she looked like she was having the worst time of her life. Sherlock looked at the painting blandly.

"She looks fine to me." John looked at Sherlock again before he realized it. The ballerina had the same eyes Sherlock did. John looked from Sherlock to the ballerina.

"Okay…?" John agreed. If Sherlock didn't see the ballerina's sadness then John wouldn't point it out anymore. A hand rested on John's shoulder and he turned to the smiling face of his teacher.

"Yes, Miss Alder?" she smiled a bit wider at the politeness. She handed him a canvas and brush.

Turning, she frowned slightly at Sherlock though the smile stayed on her face. "Sherlock, this is John Watson, though I think you already know that. He's new and to be treated nicely" She emphasized the word nicely before turning back to John. "John, I assigned this yesterday. Since the year has just begun to get to know you're drawing abilities and personalities draw whatever you want, this is a free assignment" He nodded taking the board and smiling again. She nodded and left but not before her eyes darted to Sherlock for a second. Sherlock pretended he hadn't seen her look at him like he'd done something wrong.

John set the canvas down before a hand came over to his shoulder turning him around in his seat. A mousy faced boy stood smiling at him. "Hello again John" John offered a smile to Anderson and Anderson glared past him at Sherlock who was reading his book silently. "Why don't you come sit with me and Sally?" He pulled John in whispering badly. "That's the freak I was talking about. He's creepy and I think he's the antichrist." John frowned at the insult. Sherlock wasn't a bad person as far as he'd seen and John was a good judge of character for the most part. "You can sit between me and Sally, We'll keep you away from him. He's a bad guy and he's really mean" John scrunched his nose slightly.

"I don't think he's the bad guy here" John turned back to his canvas before pulling out his paints "I'm fine where I am, thanks"

Anderson blinked at the insult "I was only trying to help. The mutant is dangerous. He nearly killed me last month in Chemistry" John looked over to Sherlock who seemed to be ignoring them.

"Was it an accident?" Anderson raised an eyebrow and took a step back.

"I guess so, but still he-" John began to sketch on his canvas.

"-If it was an accident then it was an accident. Did he apologize?"

"No! The weirdo said I shouldn't have tried taking the test tubes from him" John looked over to Sherlock.

"Anderson, you're wasting sound waves. Shut up." Sherlock stated turning the next page in his book. Anderson glared harder.

"See?!" John turned back to Sherlock.

"You should have apologized" John scowled. Sherlock seemed to continue ignoring them again. Anderson snorted.

"Like the loser could even apologize. He's mean and cold and just plain weird" John was getting tired of the conversation.

"It's nice of you to offer but I'm fine where I am Anderson. Thank you anyway" He uncapped his paints ending the conversation. With a glare to Sherlock Anderson left and Sherlock turned the page of his book slowly looking up from it to John. John continued to paint oblivious to the boy watching him. After a while John looked up smiling warmly at Sherlock again before continuing to paint. Sherlock looked back to the book as John began to hum a soft tune. A large weight seemed to gently light off of Sherlock's stomach as they sat in comfortable silence. Sherlock felt a barely there smile cover his face. It was safe to assume he liked John Watson.


	3. Friends?

Mycroft watched his brother from the window as he sat under a tree reading like he always did. He'd already learned all he needed in his class so he'd gotten accustomed to watching Sherlock from the third floor. It made him feel kind of like an angel, guarding over his younger brother. Though he tried not to show it outright he was actually very concerned for his brother. As he'd thought, his brother didn't have any friends so he usually sat alone under the tree until the end of recess. Mycroft noticed that several children especially that rat faced boy and his girlfriend, seemed to pick on his younger brother, something that made his blood boil.

But what he hadn't expected that day was a boy around, if not, Sherlock's age came up to him from under the tree. He smiled genuinely and said something Mycroft couldn't make out from the angle. Sherlock looked a little confused for a second before nodding and the boy sat next to him under the tree looking over a book of medical works and examinations. Mycroft watched the two, the boy laughing every once in a while when Sherlock apparently said something funny and Sherlock rolling his eyes playfully when the boy looked over his shoulder at his book. Mycroft smiled to himself turning away from the window to the board. He'd never thought he'd see the day. Sherlock made a friend.

-(line breaker!)-

Sherlock turned a page in his book before looking at John. The boy was odd, he could tell that much. Anyone who talked to Sherlock that civil had to have a chemical imbalance or something. But, for the most part, John seemed like a nice person. Anderson had invited him to play three times now and he still hadn't left Sherlock's side. He seemed to take an interest in what Sherlock was doing too looking over his shoulder as he reread his favorite Agatha Christie book Murder on the Orient Express. Sherlock eventually gave up reading it himself and read aloud for the both of them John asking the occasional question. As the bell rang John picked up his books and turned back to Sherlock with a beaming smile. "See you in Art!" he said happily and disappeared down the hall of the school.

Sherlock thought about John as he sat in Science class. Why was John hanging around him? Didn't he know he'd be ridiculed for it? Sherlock frowned at the idea of John being picked on. He startled himself. Did he actually just care about John's well being? Sherlock didn't care about anyone. Well, maybe his mother and brother but other than them, everyone else could go screw themselves with chopsticks for all he cared. But that didn't seem true anymore. Did he care about John? He experimented with the theory thinking about Donovan and Anderson picking on him and tossing his books on the ground. He tested his pulse. It was higher than normal, increased heart rate could mean he was angry about the thought of John getting hurt. It could also mean Sherlock was about to have a stroke. The stroke seemed more likely than him caring about another person. But he was too smart for denial. He seemed to care about John though he'd only known him for a day. John just seemed to look at him different from the others. He liked that. Sherlock examined his results. Had he made a friend?!

-(Line Breaker!)-

John slammed his locker shut and jumped out of his skin when he saw Sherlock behind it. Sherlock waited for him to regain is composure before straightening up.

"John, are we friend?" John blinked at the bluntness. He thought Sherlock was a nice person. He was the only person he'd seemed comfortable to talk to. It was only his first day but Sherlock seemed like a good friend to have. He nodded.

"If you want to be" Sherlock looked him over like a science experiment.

"Alright then…" He continued down the hall and John half wondered if he expected him to follow him. His suspicions were answered when Sherlock turned eyebrow raised at him and a small smile on his face. "Coming John?" John followed him ignoring the odd stares and out the school's doors. His first day hadn't been so bad.


	4. Texts and Note

John sighed looking wearily over at the mountain of homework he had on his desk. It was all due in a few days and he definitely didn't want to do any of it anytime soon but he needed something to relieve the boredom.

As if an answer to his prayers his phone chimed it newly familiar duck ringtone. John picked up the phone with a smile looking over the text message.

John, did you know you can't toss water on an electrical fire? No, well neither did I until five minutes ago -SH

John blinked before chuckling to himself. They'd only known each other for a week now and Sherlock and he were the best of friends. They had yet to see each other outside of school but Sherlock made sure to see that John was never lonely sending him funny text messages (or at least he found them funny) and pictures. Sherlock apparently hated calling so he texted John all hours of the day, this included from midnight to five in the morning (John hadn't really appreciated getting woken up then but looking back it was funny).

John's fingers flew over the buttons.

What on earth were you doing? –JW

It only took a few seconds to get a reply.

Experiment on which metals are more perceptible to physical weathering. I used the television, one thing led to another and the television burst into flames. –SH

John smiled wider laughing at him.

And you're results? -JW

John's phone chimed.

Inconclusive. But I do know my elder brother gets very pissy when you blow up his television –SH

John laughed at Sherlock's stupidity before the phone chimed again.

I have to go, Mycroft is demanding I tell him where his umbrella is. How do you think he will respond to me telling him it's on the telephone wire outside? Well, it seems I've found my new experiment. I'll call it 'Project Umbrella'–SH

John tossed his phone onto his bed with a smile. He'd made a good choice becoming friends with Sherlock. Twenty minutes later his phone chimed again as he did his homework begrudgingly.

'Project Umbrella' Results: Do Not fuck with Mycroft's umbrella.

John snickered like an idiot at the phone. Yeah, definitely a good choice.

-(Line Breaker!)-

Sherlock looked up in his global class as the door opened. His global teacher, Mr. Lestrade, smiled genuinely as John walked into the room. They exchanged a few words before John handed him a note and looked around the room. His eyes landed on Sherlock and he relaxed a bit before offering a wave to him. Sherlock smiled slightly and waved back. Mr. Lestrade looked between the two boys before smiling at Sherlock. "Johnathon, why don't you sit next to Sherlock?" John nodded and plopped next to him. Mr. Lestrade smiled to himself as he continued the class.

"What are we learning?" John whispered and Sherlock looked over the board.

"Apparently we're learning about Christopher Columbus." John gave Sherlock a funny look.

"Apparently? Aren't you paying attention?" Sherlock looked at him with his infamous Did-you-Really-Ask-That-Question look he'd become accustom to before turning back to his book and John shrugged. Sherlock probably knew all the information already. One thing he'd learned in the time of their friendship, Sherlock was extremely smart. He'd say a genius but Sherlock definitely didn't need an ego boast. He was very good at observing things. He could tell you everything about a person from just watching them walk into the room. John tried to focus on the book

A few minutes later someone tapped him in the shoulder and handed him a note. John asked who it was from and the boy shrugged. He opened the note reading the contents. Only freaks hang out with freaks. John stared at the note for several seconds before he felt something move next to him. He covered the note as Sherlock tried to read it and stuffed it into his bag. He wasn't a freak and he definitely didn't hang out with them so he paid the note no mind. Drumming his fingers against the table he continued to gaze forward trying to ignore Sherlock's stare.

Sherlock continued to stare at his friend (he'd never get used to thinking of John like that). Judging from his facial features he'd read something bad in the note he'd gotten but what was it? Sherlock looked around the room before looking at John's bag. He needed to see the note. He reached behind John for his bag before John stopped him.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock looked up at John.

"What was in that note?" He asked bluntly. No reason to dance around the subject. John's face scrunched slightly.

"It's nothing. Just leave it alone" Sherlock looked from John to the bag and sat back up. He continued on in class but studied John closely. He noticed the well hidden hurt look on his face. He'd seen that look before, too many times actually. John was getting bullied and this was just the beginning.


	5. Fishy smells and Cheesy notebooks

John smiled at Sherlock as they walked down the hallway of the school. It had been nearly a month now since John had moved to Sherlock's middle school and he had adjusted nicely. Other than that stupid note in his first week nothing had really happened. He'd gotten called a freak by Sally any chance she got but he hadn't really cared. She wasn't important to him. John laughed as Sherlock told a joke about Anderson looking like a fish before a smell caught his nose. He gagged mid-laugh, it was rancid. It reeked of old cheese and dead fish and wafted through the entire hallway. They continued down the hall to John's locker and the smell intensified. John struggled not to gag as he turned the combination of his lock and several fish heads covered in some odd green slime and bits of cheese poured out of his locker.

"What the-?" John looked into his locker. Every notebook and binder was covered in the green semi-liquid and bits of old cheese and fish. He pinched his nose as Sherlock picked up one of the fish heads. John reached into the locker pulling out a cheesy binder disgust clear on his face. "Who would do this?" John muttered and Sherlock had several ideas. John noticed a sky blue sticky note on the inside of his locker and pulled it out. Sherlock read it over his shoulder. We only need one freak at our school. Go Home! Sherlock glared at the note before taking it from John and ripping it up. He began to pull binders from the locker as John stared at the remains of the note on the ground.

"What's going on here?" Sherlock looked over at Mr. Lestrade as he assessed the situation. Mr. Lestrade sighed before helping Sherlock clean the books. "John, this is your locker right?" John nodded silently and Mr. Lestrade looked over the dirty books and destroyed notebooks. He turned to Sherlock "Any idea who did this?" Mr. Lestrade knew Sherlock was a smart kid. One of the brightest he'd ever seen so if he didn't have an answer they wouldn't find one. Sherlock couldn't be sure. It was obviously someone who hated him so that narrowed it down to…Everyone. Sherlock shook his head, he'd need more information before he could figure it out. Mr. Lestrade took several books from Sherlock as they headed to the global room. They cleaned all of the pages and set the books down to dry. "John, do you know why this happened?" Mr. Lestrade set a gentle hand on John's shoulder reassuringly. John shook his head.

"There was a note, it said 'We only need one freak at our school" He looked down rubbing his arm like it physically hurt. "It told me to go home." Sherlock could feel his blood begin to boil. He knew this would happen. He was a freak. He knew it, they knew it, everyone knew it and anyone who was around him was a freak by association. He watch as John walked down the hall with Mr. Lestrade to report the incident before the bell ring above him. Students began pouring out of the classrooms and he spotted Anderson talking with another boy. He stormed over to them and Anderson looked him over a smirk on his face.

"Well if it isn't the mutant? How's your freaky fr-" Anderson grunted as Sherlock grabbed his shirt pushing him against the lockers.

"Did you do it?" Anderson raised an eyebrow.

"You'll have to be more specific you little weirdo" Sherlock could feel his patience slipping.

"Did you put fish in John's locker?" Anderson snorted.

"No. But that is a good idea. Fish for the freaks" He smiled at the thought and Sherlock growled. "I've been in class the whole time loser, I didn't put fish in your geeky friend's locker" He looked around the hallway "But I'm not the only one that would if he could. He's exiled now. Anyone that hangs out with you must be weird or creepy in their own way. That dweeb is in for it" Anderson laughed to himself "I almost feel bad for him" he smiled "He's a freak just like you and he's just got here. He'll probably crack and move away and you'll be all alone again." Anderson laughed harder. "Who knows maybe I'll be the next person to put fish in his lo-" Anderson went flying down the hall as Sherlock punched him.

A crowd formed as the two fought throwing punches and kicking until the teachers pulled them apart. Miss Alder pulled Sherlock into the principal's office where John stood shocked.

"SHERLOCK!" he all but ran to him looking over his face. Sherlock's lip was slightly bloodied and he had what would be a black eye in a few hours. They turned as the door opened.

"Sherlock!" He turned to his brother who looked concerned. Mycroft took his chin in hand examining his face too. A hard look covered his face.

"Mycroft-" He stopped him.

"Who did this and how did it happen?" apparently bluntness ran in the family.

"I confronted Anderson about the fish in John's locker and he started saying some things and I don't know what came over me but I hit him" Mycroft looked down sternly.

"Holmes's do not result to violence to get something they want Sherlock and you know it" Mycroft turned to John "You must be John. Do you have anything to say?" looking at the older boy's face he suddenly forgot how to form sentences.

"I- um-" Sherlock saved him.

"It wasn't John's fault. I lost my temper." Mycroft looked from one boy to the other rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"This Anderson boy, is this one the boy who has been picking on you over the years?" Sherlock nodded making a mental note to find out how Mycroft knew about that. Mycroft looked around as if checking to make sure no one was listening to them.

"As you know Holmes's do not result to violence and seeing as mother and father are going to kill you for it. I'm curious-" he pulled his brother closer looking down at him. "-Was it worth it?" Sherlock could stop the small smile from coming over his face.

"Best ten seconds of my life" Mycroft sighed with a smile.

"Did you at least win?" Sherlock chuckled. "He had a broken nose and I think he'll have bald patches from the amount of hair I pulled so I'd say yes" Mycroft sighed again rubbing a hand over his face.

"Then I guess I could take some of the blame somehow" he sank into the seat. "Now," he crossed his leg over the other and placed his umbrella down over them. "How did this happen?" Sherlock explained and Mycroft looked over John. "A freak huh? Well I'll see what I can do with the principle. You two stay out of trouble." They nodded and Mycroft disappeared into the office. Sherlock looked around the room and then back at John. They both knew there was nothing anyone could do about the bullying. They just hoped against hope that it would get better.


	6. Ballerina Eyes

It had been two weeks since the locker incident and things had only gotten worse. Sherlock honestly didn't know how long John could last. He'd been pushed against lockers, tripped, had the books slapped out, and insulted ten times to Tuesday. Sherlock tried to defend him (usually leading to a fistfight or hair pulling) but after the first two fights John chose to handle it himself, meaning to ignore it. John claimed it was just 'stick and stones' but Sherlock knew better. He'd grown up with these people, he knew them (better than they knew themselves sometimes) and he knew what they were capable of.

After the first few days, many of which they had to stay after school and clean John's books, Mr. Lestrade had suggested they leave John's books in his classroom and that way they'd be safe. That matter had been resolved but John still had several things to deal with.

Anderson led the bullying. He knew it, Sherlock knew, everyone knew it. But no one could prove it or stop him (not that they were actually trying). John usually tried to keep Sherlock out of the bullying sessions and this frustrated Sherlock. He knew John was looking out for his well-being just as he was his but honestly how much torture can one person induce?

Outside of school wasn't exactly safe either. On Many walks home Sherlock found out from Molly that John had been pelted with balloons filled with fish juice ad hot sauce along with other unnamed liquids. They'd had a heated conversation about this ending with several door slamming. Sherlock knew that he shouldn't put any more stress on John but it infuriated him that the boy hadn't shared this with him and it enraged him even more that he hadn't noticed and couldn't do anything about it. With every push and name John was called Sherlock couldn't help but feel that it was his fault. If only he'd turned John away when they'd met he wouldn't have to come home every day and explain to his mother why he had fishy books and hot sauce hair. Honestly it seemed everyone was gunning for him. The only kind people to him seemed to be Mr. Lestrade, Molly (a young girl Sherlock had known for years) and Sherlock's older brother Mycroft who had become accustomed to the boy's company.

Actually, Mycroft had asked the driver to drive the three of them to and fro school after hearing about the fish balloon accidents. He'd tried his best with the adults, but being adults they thought they knew best and their arrogance was beginning to annoy him. He was happy John had accepted the rides to and from school. He didn't want any harm to come to the boy and he knew he thought he was being a burden but Mycroft chose not to state it outright fearing an argument with Sherlock might start. But John really didn't have a choice in the matter whether it was Sherlock nearly dragging him into the car or the boys waiting with water balloons that were defiantly not full of water down the street. But life went on and, scarily enough, everything eventually became routine.

-(Line Breaker!)-

John looked around the gymnasium floor from his place on the stands. Everyone had made a point not to talk to him the entire time he'd been there. He was getting used to the shunning but every so often when he was alone with his thoughts, he couldn't help but wonder why this was happening to him. Was it really because he was friends with Sherlock? Sherlock wasn't a bad person, he definitely wasn't an angel either (He even said so himself). But John liked him and so they'd become good friends. He remembered back to the first note. Only freaks hang out with freaks. Was it so wrong to make a friend? Even if Sherlock was a little egotistical and selfish at times he was a good person, just in his own ways. Was it so wrong to be friends with him? He didn't even notice as someone sat next to him until a gentle tap shook him from his thoughts. He looked over into the shy smiling face of Molly. John smiled slightly, Molly was one of the only people in school that treated him like a human being.

"John, are you okay?" He nodded instantly and she frowned. "It's not nice to lie John" His smile wavered he looked over to Molly again. She looked genuinely concerned and he was happy at least someone cared.

"It's nothing." Molly smiled playfully bumping their shoulders before looking at him again through mocha brown hair.

"If it were nothing you wouldn't be thinking about it so hard." He smiled warily again Molly always knew how to talk to people.

"I was just thinking about the other kids…" John trailed off not wanting to finish his thoughts.

"…and how they bully you for being friends with Sherlock." She looked over at the soccer game being played. "I think you make a good choice" she smiled over to him as he watched her. "Sherlock is a nice person, even if it's not all the time." John smiled a bit wider. That was one thing he loved about Molly, she reminded him of his mother, always looking for the good in people. John swung his feet slightly watching his shoelaces sway.

"He is, He can be a bit mean sometimes but I understand why, no one sees the world like he does, were all painfully normal. He feels alone." Molly nodded understanding. She opened her mouth to say something but a soccer ball hurling past them cut her off with a squeak. They turned to see Anderson smirking up at them.

"Sorry about that" He climbed up getting the ball and tossed it to Sally.

"Since when does Mousy Molly hang out with the freaks?" Sally asked and Molly rubbed her arm.

"If we leave you alone you'll bred like rats" John growled and Anderson chuckled.

"Sooner or later freaks would fill the school and we can't have that." he took the ball from Sally and dropped it on the ground kicking it back and forth between his feet. "It doesn't makes sense. Who would want to be friend with the mutant and the mouse?" John nearly lost it when he saw Molly hang her head. She was always soft hearted when it came to bullying. He opened his mouth again and the bell rang. Shaking off the anger he helped Molly down and turned back to Anderson. They locked eyes glaring at each other before Anderson tossed his ball into the box. He pushed past John bumping their shoulders roughly. "As long as you're friends with the freak you'll never be accepted" John watched their fleeting figures before Molly tapped him again.

"I have to get to class, see you later John" He smiled waving at her and watching as she left until he was alone in the gym. With a sigh he picked up his bag and left as alone as he been when he arrived.

-(Line Breaker!)-

A few hours later, Sherlock watch John from a distance as he walked to class. If he were in a cartoon he'd have a little raincloud over his head. John stopped for a second before looking in his direction. He attempted a smile, it wavered slightly, but Sherlock didn't comment. John didn't need him pointing out the obvious. They walked silently to art class.

Miss Alder looked around the classroom "Class, Today were going to do a small project on feeling. To get a better grip on your mood, your project is to draw and paint a painting of how you're feeling at the moment" she smiled slightly. "I'm not looking for a Da Vinci worthy picture. Even a simple color painting is fine. They will be due at the end of the class and will be presented" she turned back to her computer and the class got to work. Sherlock began to sketch his canvas as the chair in front of him scrapped against the tile floor. John stood walking to Miss Adler before asking, what Sherlock guess was a question. She nodded and handed him a jar full of paint and he plopped back into his seat without so much as a word. Sherlock watched him for a second noticing the slight frown on his face. He turned back to his sketching though his mind was elsewhere.

He wished he could make John smile again. Not the smile he wears now. He wanted to see the smile he offered Sherlock on the day they met. Warm, unguarded, genuine…He wanted John to have that smile again. Before he knew it the class was over and everyone began presenting their paintings. Most of which were the normal happy things dull people make.

"Sherlock" he looked up taking his painting in hand and set it on the presentation easel. John looked over the painting. A very realistic looking heart stood out around a relatively white background. The painting had a puzzle feeling to it. Each section covered in a put together puzzle pattern, though several pieces were missing most of which on the heart itself.

"I titled it 'Almost'" Miss Adler nodded taking it down in her clipboard and smiled at John. John nodded taking his painting and setting it on the easel.

Sherlock stared at the painting as the murmurs in class turned to silence. He…He hadn't drawn anything. It was black. The entire canvas was black. Such a simple idea left such an eerie feeling over the class. Sherlock looked from the canvas to john and back again.

"I titled it 'Void'" he mumbled before taking the painting off the stand and sitting back down across from Sherlock. Miss Adler stared at him for several more seconds before the bell rang and everyone left silently.

"John" John turned to Sherlock

"Yeah." Sherlock nearly flinched at the blankness in his statement. Sherlock suddenly became very interested in his shoes.

"I was wondering if you wanted to come over to my house Friday. We could have a sleepover" The warning bell chimed and John turned to the door. "I don't know Sherlock. I have a lot of things to do this weekend" He mumbled turned to the door. Sherlock caught his arm and John looked over at him. The ballerina look filled Sherlock's eyes and John felt guilty.

"I'll think about it Sherlock" He nodded letting go slowly and john tried a smile. "I'll see you later." They parted and John opened the door to the boy's bathroom. He sighed splashing his face with the cool water. He looked into the mirror staring at his reflection and realized something truly terrifying. Sherlock had had the ballerina's eyes again and now looking into the mirror, he saw that he had them too.


	7. Sleepover at Sherlock's

John caught himself staring at the clock again. Twenty minute left of ninth period. Usually that would make him happy, but, he was going to Sherlock's house today. He'd finally worn him down and gotten him to agree to come over for the weekend. John had stopped listening to the teacher ages ago instead escaping to the dark recesses of his mind (something he found himself doing often lately). What if Sherlock's family didn't like him? He knew Sherlock had a brother but he didn't know much else about his family but that. The bell rang shaking John out of his thoughts and he watched as the other students collected their things chatting about weekend plans and get-togethers. With a sigh John grabbed his bags and left to meet Sherlock.

-(Line Breaker!)-

John looked around the hot parking lot for Sherlock. He'd said he'd meet him after school by the willow trees (their usual spot). John walked up the grassy hill to the white birch trees high above him. He listened to the evening birds tweet as he pushed past a bush. He smiled at the familiar sight of Sherlock reading. He laid outstretched under the shade holding the book high above his head his eyes flickering over each page. John sat next to him pulling out his medical book and together they read in comfortable silence. Sherlock scooted closer laying his head in John's lap. He looked over to him briefly as he got comfortable before laying back against the tree and continuing to read. Sherlock turned the page a small smile on his face.

"Hello John." He said.

John turned the page in his book. "Evening." He said before another comfortable silence feel over them the only sounds the rustle of pages turning and the occasional breeze.

Tire on gravel interrupted the quiet as a vintage car pulled up alongside the curb. Sherlock looked over before tucking his book under his arm and tugged on his trench coat. He turned to offer a hand to John.

"Coming?" Sherlock asked and John nodded taking the hand and following him to the car. A man stepped out of the driver's seat taking both of their bags and placing them into the trunk before opening the car door for them. John looked from Sherlock to the man before a slightly tug on his jumper pulled him into the car. He looked around slowly, the car reminded him of a limo. The seat were patted and comfortable and the lights were slightly dimmed. Across from them Mycroft smiled in greeting before turning back to his notebook. John finally remembered a question he'd been meaning to ask.

"Sherlock, where do you live?" Sherlock turned to him a cocking his head.

"Getting into a person's car without knowing the destination is dangerous John" Mycroft chuckled and John pouted looking out the window as the houses rolled by. They began up Towner Hill and John noticed the houses getting more expensive looking. Several minutes later he turned back to Sherlock as they rolled up to the entrance of a Very large house.

John couldn't believe what he was seeing. "No Way." He mumbled. Mycroft chuckled at the surprise as John looked out the window.

"Our parents are out of town for the time being. They send their apologies for not being able to greet you personally. It will just be you, my brother and I in the house along with the maids" John looked over to Mycroft as he spoke. Did he just say maids? He turned to Sherlock who seemed to be watching his reactions before turning back to the window.

The tall iron gates finally opened and the car rode down the path to the house in the distance. As they grew closer John couldn't believe what he was seeing. The mansion was a creamy white its landscape decorated by the large gardens of flowers, plants and shrubbery art. The house reminded him of a palace fit for a king. They came to a stop in front of the house and the chauffeur again opened the car doors. They exited (Mycroft and John thanking him, Sherlock seemed to forget) and Sherlock tugged John to the house. A woman in a navy blue maid's uniform opened the door for them and John nearly lost it. It looked like something out of a television show. Several maids stood side by side lined down the doorway smiling.

"Good Evening Sirs." They said in unison and John watched them all move at once to take their coats and bags from the chauffeur. John managed a quick thank you before they disappeared.

Mycroft hung up his umbrella. "So John, what do you think?" What did he think?!

"It's…amazing!" John said. He couldn't find the word for it. Sherlock smiled again tugging John along.

"Come on, I'll show you my game room." Sherlock tugged John the hall as he waved his goodbyes to Mycroft. Minutes later they reached a chestnut colored door.

"What kind of games do you have?" John asked and Sherlock gestured to the door and John looked him over. He didn't like the satisfied smirk on his face. Slowly he opened the door stepping inside and straight into the largest toy room he'd ever seen. He spun around taking the whole room in. The room itself was large enough to fit his entire family's apartment, twice. Thousands of game some with bright lettering and others in different languages sat neatly on the bins and shelves against the walls. Sherlock probably owned every game ever invented. John looked over a box with bright shapes and florescent wording before flipping it over into his hands. Instead of cardboard his fingers felt plastic. It was unopened. He reached for another. Also unopened. They were all unopened.

"Why didn't you open any of these?" John said offering the box to Sherlock who took it turning it over several times in his hand as if seeing it of the first time. He shrugged passively.

"I didn't have anyone to play with" He said like it was the simplest thing in the world. John looked over the room. No one to play with... He looked at Sherlock still turning the game in his hands before taking it from him gently and setting it down. He picked up another game smiling to the title.

"I think you'd like this game, we can play it if you want" John said, Sherlock looked reading the title over his shoulder.

"Cluedo?" John nodded and smiled as they sat on the colorful rug beneath them. Sherlock began to set up the game and John slipped the cards into the envelope. He handed Sherlock the dice and the game began.

"Sherlock stop thinking so hard" John managed to keep the giggles out of his voice as Sherlock continued to look down at the remaining cards intensely. He had been thinking for three minutes now and John could barely keep the laughter in anymore.

"But it doesn't make sense! Professor Plum doesn't have the motive for killing her. Miss White was in the kitchen. Coronal Mustard on the other hand…." He said to himself picking up the cards and examining them as if they held all the answers. John sighed as he watch Sherlock examine the game again.

"Sherlock, Dr. Black couldn't have done it. He was the victim!" Sherlock ignored him setting down the cards with a sigh. John smiled as he shuffled the cards again. "I think we should play another game" Sherlock nodded pulling out a random board game.

"Would you like to play Scrabble?" He asked looking over the instruction on the back. John shrugged. He'd never played. Sherlock opened the plastic covering and they set up the next game.

"Okay, I call bullshit on that one." John shouted laying back to sulking as Sherlock placed down his final pieces. He had to be cheating.

"Language John" Sherlock said with a smirk. "Apoplectic is a word anyway." John sat up.

"Use it in a sentence!" John countered and Sherlock grinned.

"John decided to play a boy with a higher vocabulary at Scrabble and became apoplectic when he lost." John felt his eye twitch. No way in hell that was a real word. He had let 'betwixt' pass but this was where he drew the line. John's stomach growling interrupted his fit.

"Hungry?" John nodded embarrassed as Sherlock lead them out of the room and down the stairs. They passed the living room and John peeked his head inside.

"Hi Mycroft" John called from the doorway and Mycroft looked up from his book to smile softly.

"Hello John, are you enjoying yourself?" John nodded looking around the living room. The room was modern for the Victorian styled house. A large television hung from the wall in front of the chocolate colored couch and chairs. He looked around the counters on the coffee table and beneath the television. Several controllers shaped as instruments and other consoles sat on the table. John looked at the container of games.

"You have Guitar Hero: World Tour?" John asked looking through the rest of the games. Sherlock nodded picking up the game.

"Our mother thought we should do 'normal children things' every now and then so she bought it for us" John picked up a controller.

"Can we play?" Sherlock nodded turning on the television to John's instructions.

"Well" Mycroft closed his book. "I'll leave you two to your games" He said collecting his tea cup and shoes. "I'll go-"

"You don't want to play with us?" John said slightly hurt. Mycroft paused looking from Sherlock (who shrugged) to John.

"I'm not one for video games" Mycroft admitted and John handed him a pair of drumsticks offering a reassuring smile

"Nonsense, you can play drums. Just hit the color when it comes up." John said as Mycroft looked at a grinning Sherlock behind him and took the drumsticks flipping them in his hands before sitting down at the seat. John handed Sherlock one of the two guitars before selecting a song.

"Put on 'Livin' on Prayer'." Sherlock said. John nodded programming it and began the song off Sherlock and Mycroft following after him. Several songs later John was having a lot of fun. For people who didn't like to play video games Sherlock and Mycroft hardly missing a note. Several games later it was seven thirty.

Mycroft rubbed his wrists. 'Eye of the Tiger' has been killer on his wrists. John snickered watching the older boy stretch his wrist out.

"Rocked a bit too hard" Mycroft pouted slightly and John grinned. Now he saw where Sherlock got it from. He turned the television back to normal and they all sat down together as infomercials played.

"What I don't understand is why you can't just change it." Mycroft said and Sherlock dangled the remote out in front of him.

"But Mycroft, this infomercial says in 20 days you can be a new you. That's right put your alley" Sherlock said and Mycroft dived at him landing on top of the smaller boy.

"Well maybe then we can find a way to sow your face back onto the pig it came from" He shot back and John watched giggling as the two tussled on the floor.

"John I require assistance!" Sherlock panted under his brother massive weight. John snorted picking the remote up and flipping to BBC.

"I say we watch a movie." John finally called after minutes of scrolling. Sherlock looked up at him from his seat upside down on the couch. They'd been flipping through channels for thirty minutes now. John now knew twelve different ways to style his short hair, why green was no longer 'in', and that Mycroft was definitely not an autumn. If he had to sit through one more commercial about stains in carpet he'd scream. Mycroft looked up from his spot on the couch. He continued to flip through channels not even looking at the screen anymore.

"What do you suggest?" Mycroft asked and John flipped over in his chair.

"What movies do you guys like?" The brothers looked at each other.

Sherlock snatched the remote from Mycroft. "We don't really watch movies in this house. We do have a projector but it doesn't get used often." John nodded as Mycroft called a maid in to help him with the projector. He slumped back down as John looked through their movies.

" How about Good Will Hunting?" John offered. The brothers shrugged and John put the movie in before slumping down next to them.

"That was unorthodox" Sherlock said as John pulled out the film. Mycroft nodded and John looked through the other movies.

"Well then you pick one." Sherlock stood looking through the movies.

"What about this one?" he pulled out a foreign gory looking movie.

Mycroft took it from him. "Battle Royale? Never seen it." He shrugged putting it in and sitting down to watch.

Sherlock sighed as the credits rolled "That one was alright. The subtitles could have been better. But the plot was okay and the actors were good." John looked at the clock as he yawned. It was getting late.

Sherlock looked over lazily as another yawn came. "Tired?" John nodded slowly and Mycroft's phone rang.

He moved to the other room to return minutes later. "Sherlock, mummy asked me to ask you if you practiced your violin this morning?" he groaned and Mycroft stretched a bit. "I thought as much. You need to do it soon or you won't hear the end of it when she gets home."

"You play the violin?" John asked and Sherlock nodded tugging him forward and down the hall to a large black door. It opened with a deep creek to reveal a beautiful ivory music room.

John spotted a piano off to the side of the room shimmering in the moonlight let in by the long bay windows. John's fingers grazing over the keys. "Whose piano is this?" Mycroft sat on the black stool in front of it.

"Our fathers." He said, smiled slightly down at the black and white keys. "Father tried to get Sherlock to play but, I suppose he never had a love for it as I do. He took after our mother. She loved the sounds of violins." John turned to Sherlock as he tuned the violin staring out a window into the night sky.

John sat on the sofa at the edge of the room. "What song are you going to play?" Sherlock looked over slowly.

Sherlock looked over experimentally plucking a string. "Do you have any requests?"

"I don't know a lot of violin piece." John said looked from Mycroft checking over the piano to Sherlock who nodded to himself.

"I can play a piece for you if you'd like" Sherlock offered and John nodded ready to hear Sherlock play. Sherlock pulled the violin to his neck. "This piece is called The Malaguena by Sarasate." Sherlock looked to Mycroft who nodded and turned to the piano. He began to play a soft tune as Sherlock laid his melody over it. Together they created a new song and John let the music take him getting caught in the melody's world. Minutes in, Sherlock began to pluck the strings creating what John thought was a Spanish dance before returning to a louder melody.

John imagined a festival lined with dancing people all swaying and laughing in bright colored clothes and hats. He smiled at the thought as Sherlock continued Mycroft right behind him every step of the way the pitch growing louder reaching a very high note Sherlock's bow dancing over the strings as it returned to the previous tune. John laid out on the sofa as the song ended. He clapped the sound echoing in the large room and Sherlock bowed slightly. John yawned sinking deeper into the sofa.

Sherlock chuckled looking over his bow. "I think we can play one more song" John nodded sleepily as Mycroft readjusted himself as Sherlock readied himself as well.

Sherlock raised his violin again. "This is a song called Only You by Winter Sonata." A moment passed and Sherlock signaled them and together they began a melancholy tune. John closed his eyes listening to the music as it carted him off to another place far from reality. He imagined himself lost deep in a blizzard world trudging through feet of the snow his only guild the song they played so well together. We felt his body grow heavy as the song progressed almost as if he were being weighed down by the imaginary snow itself.

He turned his head looking to the brothers as they each swayed to the song's melody. He closed his eyes again turning the other way and back to his distant snow land. He followed the melody searching salvation but only finding the harsh snow in his path. He felt his body sink deeper into the snowy world the imagined world slowly turning into dreams and before the last note John had fallen asleep. Sherlock opened his eyes settling down his violin and Mycroft closed the piano case. Mycroft picked John up holding him bridal style as they exited the room closing the black door behind them.

Mycroft looked over the snoozing boy. "He looks peaceful." Sherlock nodded slipping into his own sleeping bag before turning on his side.

"I'm glad he had fun." Sherlock said and a soft frown came over Mycroft's face.

"You two have school Monday though" he said and Sherlock laid out.

Sherlock laid on his back staring at his ceiling. "I'm just glad he could have fun now." Mycroft nodded flipping off the lights. "Mycroft?" He looked over and Sherlock smiled. "Thank you for staying with us."

Mycroft smiled warmly at his younger brother. "Thank you for letting me." He said closing the door. "Goodnight" he whispered and Sherlock tossed a blanket over them. John snored slightly and Sherlock sighed letting sleep take over him. He was happy he'd made John's first sleepover with him an enjoyable one.


	8. Assault on Baker Street

John shut the book with a snap and a sigh. He flipped over to lay on his back holding Murder on the Orient Express high above his head. Sherlock had let him borrow it at their sleepover a week ago and he had just finished it today. Since then, school had gone…well? The bullying had quieted down to almost nothing and the last week of peace was a blessing. Sherlock wasn't convened it was over though. He called it 'the calm before the storm' but John chose to be a little bit more optimistic.

John set the book on his nightstand turning to the clock. It was almost five thirty in the afternoon. He contemplated whether or not he should return it. It was one of Sherlock's favorite books and he'd given it to John to read while he was at home. He could return it tomorrow but if Harriet got her hands on it he'd never get it back. He sighed tugging on his shoes and coat doing the math in his head. If he cut past Washington Street and Through Baker he'd make it to Towner Hill in thirty minutes and be back before dinner. Wasting no time, John pulled on his coat.

"Mom, I have to return something to Sherlock. I'll be back in a few minutes!" He called and ran out the door.

-(Line Breaker!)-

John sighed. Washington Street had been under construction but he'd finally made it to Baker Street without much trouble. He was a few minutes behind schedule but that did stop him as he passed the apartments. The fork in the road stopped him for a second though. 'Tristian Road or King Brook Avenue?' He thought to himself as he bumped into a taller boy.

"Oh sorry I was-"

"Oh look It's freak 2" a snide voice interrupted him.

John stopped looking at the taller boy. Sherlock had gotten into a fight with him before…what was his name? Anderson? "Pretty late to be out on your own isn't it? Never know who you could run into." Anderson smirked as John took a step back.

To run right into the front of another two larger boys.

John stepped past them and Anderson grabbed his shoulder. "Where yah goin'?" He asked pull John back over. John looked around, the streets were empty. He was alone with them. Anderson tried a smile "we were just talking and you're trying to leave? That's not very nice." He said burying one hand in his pocket the other still holding John's shoulder. "You know we were going to the arcade my dad owns. You should come with us" John took another step back under the intense spark in Anderson's eyes. That didn't sound like a suggestion. "What do you say?" John tried to shake the hand off but it only grew tighter.

"Aw," Anderson said stepping back looking over his shoulder at the two other boys. "I don't think he likes me very much. Why don't you two try and persuade him?" The two boys stepped forward and John took off in the other direction.

He could hear them screaming and their frantic footsteps as he tore down the street in the direction of his home. He hoped for someone, anyone, to be outside but even now he could see the sun setting. No one was coming to his rescue. John panted as he ran, suddenly his breathing cut off his sweater being yanked in the other direction. He clawed at the hand holding him and his attacker let him go as Anderson swung toward his face. John dodged the attack landing his own on Anderson cheek splitting the skin before a whack to his head caused him to crumble to his knees. He feel forward seeing the shocked face on Anderson's face before the word spiraled into darkness.

-(Line Breaker!)-

Sherlock looked over to the landline as it rang before waiting for Tanaka to answer it. He turned to Mycroft after several seconds. "I answered it last time." He said and Mycroft groaned getting up to answer the phone.

"Hello?" He said and the voice of a tired and frantic woman came over the other line.

"Hello, is this the Holmes residence?"

"Yes it is, how can I help you?" the woman sighed relieved.

"I've been trying to find this number for almost ten minutes. I'm Ms. Watson and I was calling about my son, John. He ran out the door before I could stop him yelling about going to give Sherlock something I believe and I was wondering if he was staying over for dinner because he hasn't called yet to tell me anything. It's been almost an hour" Mycroft froze looking around.

Sherlock sat up before Mycroft held the phone back to his ear. "Mrs. Watson, John isn't here." A long silence fell over both lines.

"I'm going out to look for him." She said finally. Mycroft could hear the rummage of clothes and a little girl's voice.

Mycroft was already putting on his shoes. "If he arrive here someone will call." He managed before the line cut off. Mycroft grabbed his coat as Sherlock hoped up from his seat, book forgotten.

The look on Mycroft's face was unsettling. "What happened to John?" he demanded.

Mycroft skated past him. "He was supposedly coming here to return something and he's been gone an hour." Mycroft deadpanned and Sherlock grabbed his coat. They both moved for the door.

Tanaka stopped them. "Phone call Sir." He said and Mycroft pulled up his sleeve.

"Not now, I have something to do" Tanaka grabbed his shoulder as he turned to leave. Mycroft looked over at the sad look on his face.

"It's important." He said gravely and Mycroft numbly took the phone.

"Holmes residence." Mycroft listened to the phone call Sherlock watching his reactions before with sad eyes he turned to him. "It's about John. He's hurt." Sherlock listened in on the phone call trying to keep his composure his mind gnawing away at him the entire time as they all feared the worst.

-(line Breaker!)-

"John?!" Sherlock called all but breaking down the door. He'd flown past two pissed nurses, a surprised doctor, and four sleeping security guards to get to the room.

A woman looked over startled as she held John's hand. "Hello." She said softly rubbing John's hand a bit more as Sherlock looked him over. He began to shake violently looking over his fallen friend.

John's face was broken covered in scratches along with a deeply cut bottom lip and bruised eye. White gauze covered his forehead soaked in his blood and purple red fleshy bruises stuck out against his peach skin. His arm was wrapped in a cast propped against his chest. He was sleeping or uncurious Sherlock couldn't tell in the state he was in.

Sherlock looked over to the woman gently stoking John's hand in a comforting gesture. "He's been asleep for 45 minutes" the woman said sad brown eyes looking through shaded brown hair.

Mycroft stepped in looking over the scene. "Excuse me mam, who are you?" the woman smiled gingerly.

"I'm Miss Hudson. I found your friend outside my doorstep and called the police. He was alone so I promised to stay with him until someone named 'Sherlock' came." Sherlock stiffened at his name and she smiled slightly. "You must be him. He wanted to give you this" She unwrapped the book from a cloth in her bag. Sherlock took it glaring down at the book like it was the source of his problems.

The door burst open and a ginger haired woman came inside stepping past Mycroft to John. She covered her mouth a choked sob threatening to come out as a girl clenched her dress.

"John?" the woman managed and the girl turned to Sherlock. She was obviously older than him towering over Sherlock. He guessed she was the older sister, Harriet, John had talked so much of. Harriet glaring menacingly with eyes the same shade as John's.

"Where were you?" She asked.

Those words hit harder than any bullet ever could. Mycroft stepped in defending his brother. "Mrs. Watson, I'm sorry. If we had known he was coming, we would have sent a car."

Mrs. Watson looked from the heartbroken Sherlock holding John's hand to Mycroft trying to control the situation. "I-It's okay" she managed. "You-You-" She choked back another sob cupping John's face. "My baby." She said holding John as best she could as if her embrace could take the pain away. Harriet glared down as the hospital sheets anger rolling over her in crashing waves.

"I'll kill whoever did this." She growled. Sherlock squeezed John's hand softly. She'd have to get in line.

Sherlock got first dibs.


End file.
